Endure
by Pachamama9
Summary: Before the birth of Bill and Fleur's third child, something goes terribly wrong.
1. Every Breath You Take

**A/N: A fic about Louis' birth and the chaos that ensues.**

 **Board Game Challenge - #60 (Write about returning home)**

 **If You Dare Challenge - #820 (Fire in your eyes)**

 **Character Diversity Boot Camp - #19 (answer), Bill Weasley**

 **Your Favorite House Boot Camp - #3 (disarm), Gryffindor**

 **Conversation Starter Prompt Challenge - #37 (Write about a character having traditional views about something.)**

 **Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #64 (Hostage Zero)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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I set my bag down on the doorstep with an "oof," my shoulders immediately relieved of the weight. I haven't realized until now how sore the muscles on my right side became when I carried my workload on only one shoulder. My hands now free, I dig inside my pocket for my keys. I find the correct one and swiftly unlock it before removing a couple wards on the house so that I can enter. "Fleur, love?" I call out, my voice echoing through the house. "I'm home!"

Through her lack of reply, I assume she is asleep or upstairs where my voice does not quite reach. I hear a squeal and see something small and quick launch itself at me. "Daddy!" shrieks Victoire, and my eldest daughter wraps her little arms around my leg. "Daddy!"

I laugh and scoop her up into my arms as her high-pitched words collapse into giggles. "Hey, sweetheart! Where's your mummy, hm?"

"Bathroom," she replies simply before repeatedly asking me for ice cream.

Fleur usually gives Dominique baths around when I come home from work, so her reply makes sense. "Sure," I respond. "How long's Mummy been in the bathroom?"

"Too long," she groans, clinging to my neck. "Too, too long..."

"Where's your sister?"

"Bathroom," she said. "Daddy, can you play with me?"

"In a minute, love," I assure her, tapping her nose. "Let's go find Mummy, and then we'll play, okay?"

Victoire groaned. "But Daddy," she whines.

"It won't take long," I tell her. "Promise."

She lets out a tiny "humph" and presses her face into my shirt, her arms and legs a vice grip around me as I climb the stairs with her. When I reach the bathroom door, I knock sharply, shifting my little girl to one arm to do so. "Fleur?"

Nothing. Victoire begins to complain again, moaning, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, come on..."

I knock again. "Fleur, love, are you in there?" Again, nothing. A strange feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. I set Victoire down on the floor and listen intently to any sounds coming from the bathroom. I rattle the doorknob. The door is locked. "Fleur? Are you alright?"

My shoes are wet. I look down and find there to be water all over the floor. It's still spreading across the wood floor... It's swirled with scarlet; it's bloody water. Oh, Merlin, no— "Victoire, get downstairs now!" I growl. I don't want her to see anything that might be in here. Victoire bolts. I know that she thinks she's in trouble for something, but I can't worry about that now; the only thing that I can worry about is—I'm slamming my hand against the wood of the door and Victtoire is screaming at me and— "Fleur, open the door!" There's an unusual noise coming from in the bathroom and it's scaring me— "Fleur!" I cry.

I remember (the idiot I am) that I am a wizard and fumble for my wand, unlocking the door with a quick Alohomora. I frantically shove it open.

The sight that I see before me makes my heart stop in its tracks. Fleur is in the tub, her entire body beneath the top of the water, including her head. There's bubbles appearing above where her head is, and Dominique—where is my baby? Where is my child?

I'm screaming the both of their names but I can barely hear the words escape my mouth... I rush to the edge of the tub, and pull my wife up by the shoulders. There's so much blood everywhere; over the edge of the tub and staining the wall in the form of a weak handprint... "Oh, Merlin, oh, Merlin, what do I—what do I—" Dominique is there, motionless, eyes closed, under the water; she does not know how to swim; what infant would? I nearly drop Fleur and then I'm trying to keep them both of them above the water, and I'm cradling my child but she's not breathing— "Help me!" I've carried Dom out of the tub; Fleur is still under the water; I can't save them both... I look between to the two of them quickly and grip my wand, sending out a spell that tells of my emergency, I'm calling a Mediwizard or anyone, anyone at all—

They Apparate to me in a matter of seconds, and they automatically move forward, taking Dominique from me as I desperately try to do Muggle CPR on her; her heartbeat... "Oh, Merlin, please, oh, Merlin—"  
They pull a dripping wet, naked Fleur out of the tub, not for a moment caring for her modesty (I don't care either, I just want her and Dom alive) and one Healer approaches me, her face like stone. "Sir, you need to come with me. We're taking your wife and child to St. Mun—"

"Are they alive?"

"Sir, we're still determining—"

"Tell me what happened!"

"Sir, we don't—"

"I want to know what the hell happened!" I shove her against the wall, and she raises her wand, disarmed me, and has said, "Stupefy!" before I can even do anything more...

"Reenervate."

My eyes snap open and I jerk awake the first thing on my mind being my family. "What hap—" I spot the Healer who I attacked sitting in front of me. "Where is Dominique? Where's Fleur? Did you get Vic—"

"William," she says. She's sitting in the chair across from me, her wand pointed at me. "I'm going to have to ask you to restrain yourself from speaking unless I ask you a direction question." Although her tone is polite, there is fire in her eyes.

It's then that I realize that I am bound to the chair I'm sitting in. I tense. "What's going on? Why am I—Where am I? Tell me what happened to Dominique, please! Is she—"

"I believe I told you to not speak." Her voice is so calm, yet ice cold.

"I want to know what happened to them!" One of the ropes snaps and then I can easily stand. A flicker of fear runs across her face. "Are they alive? What happened to—"

"Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

I'm up again and the bindings are tighter, making me unable to take a deep breath. My hands are tingling. "Where is my—"

"William, I believe I've already given you strict instructions not to speak." There are two strange things about the way she is speaking to me. One: she refers to me by my first name, even though I am at least twenty years older than her. Two: she calls me William, even though no one has called me that except my teachers at Hogwarts (and only once, because after that I corrected them and told them I went by Bill). That means that she doesn't know me and that she doesn't believe I deserve the respect of being referred to as 'Mr. Weasley.' "If you talk out of turn again, I will have to knock you out again."

The words are nearly bursting from my lips. Are Dominique and Fleur alive? Are they going to be okay? Where is Victoire? Can I see them? What happened to them? Fleur had been rounding six months pregnant... Oh, no, Merlin, please, what if our unborn child... Oh— "Please, tell me what happened—"

"Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

My head hurts. "I'm warning you, William, if you talk out of turn one more time, I'm going to have to use more physical means to control you."

This time, I know better than to talk back.

"Thank you. Now, can you tell me your full name?"

"William Arthur Weasley."

"And your mate's name?"

"Fleur Isabelle Weasley."

"Birthdate?"

"November 29th, 1970. What does this have to do with—"

"What did I say?" she hisses. "Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

My entire body is sore now, magic still buzzing in my head. I lift my head. "My name is Bill," I growl, and she knocks me out again with a "Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

I cough. I don't think these spells are meant to be used this...frequently. "Bill," she spits. "How long have you been a werewolf?"

Everything clicks. This is why she is treating me like this. This is why... "I'm not a werewolf," I answer.

"Don't lie to me, Bill," she says, twirling her wand. "How long?"

"I'm" —I cough again— "not lying, I—"

"Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

I don't think I have the strength to even move. My head hangs forward. My body is so weak, so tired... "Bill, I'm going to grant you a question so that you feel more obliged to tell me the truth. The Veritaserum's being used for Ministry interrogations around the country, so unfortunately its stock is running a bit low. Go ahead."

I bite my lip. "Are they alive?"

"Your mate and child?" I nod. "Yes."

Why is she referring to Fleur as my 'mate'? I am no werewolf. "She's not—Fleur's not my mate," I croak. "She's my wife."

The Healer smirks. "I know how you creatures work. You don't marry."

"No, I—"

"Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

There's a new voice in the room. "Merlin, Em, you really did a number on him. Are you sure this is okay?"

"Of course," she replies. "Werewolves don't feel pain or exhaustion like we do. You know that."

"Yeah, but... I mean, he looks bad."

"Don't tell me you feel sympathy for it."

She gulps. "Well, I mean—"

"Ella, you remember what that werewolf did to my little brother, don't you? Don't you?"

A soft, quiet reply. "Yes."

"He killed my little brother when he was only eight! Eight years old! And now this one's trying to pass off as human after nearly making a woman miscarry? Are you kidding me?"  
"My wife—" I cough and blood splatters across my work pants. Except...there's already blood there, dried. Where did that blood come from? "She mis—she miscarried?"

"No, no, no," says the new woman, a bald woman with tattoos swirled over her skull and dark, slanted eyes. She kneels before me. "Sir, your wife is doing well." I can't even begin to express how happy her words make me. These are the words I've been waiting for since this whole thing began. "She recovered well from the accident, and your son" —my...my what?— "is doing well, but as you know, he was born extremely premature and is still under careful supervision. We're still trying to get him to breathe on his own."

"Son?" I choke out, and now I have enough strength to lift my head.

"Yes, your son. Louis, I believe?"

"I have" —I cough so badly that the force of it throws the chair forward an inch or so. "I have a son?"

"Yes, yes, your son," she repeats. "Oh, Merlin, Em..." She turns to the other Healer. "This isn't right, I'm telling you. You didn't tell him about the baby?"

"I didn't find it necessary to tell him. It would have only distressed him—"

"Any decent parent deserves to know about their child! I'm sorry, Em, but this is out of line." She stands up and reaches for her wand. "I can't let you do this. I—"

A flick of the Healer's wand, and the kind woman is on the ground, unconscious. "Sorry about that, Bill. Now, let's continue with our talk, shall we? Can you remind me when you got those scars?"

She traces the red lines littered across my face with her wand. I jerk my head away, but I don't have enough energy to keep it up for long. "Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts," I tell her in one breath. "Night Albus Dumbledore died."

"And who gave them to you?"

"Greyback."

The quill and notebook hovering in the air beside her are scribbling down everything I say. "And Greyback is a werewolf, yes?" I move my head slightly to indicate my answer. "So you've been a werewolf for how long?"

"Not," I remind her. "Not a werewolf."

I go into a coughing fit that racks me so harshly that spots appear before my eyes. When I'm done, I meet the Healer's angry gaze. "Don't lie to me."

"I-I'm not—"

"Stupefy!"

"Reenervate."

I can barely breathe at all. My chest feels tight and scratchy, and my throat has tightened to the size of a drinking straw. I gasp for air. My eyes burn. "Bill, since you seem to be in a state of denial about your lycanthropy, would you like to tell me about what happened to your wife?"

My breath is loud and raspy. "Came...home. From...work. She...in...bathroom...with...Dom." Dizzy, I take in another breath, my lungs working overtime to do one simple task. "Door...locked. Blood...water...everywhere. Opened...and...she...she...she..." I start hacking, unable to speak. Something's caught in my throat. My body heaves and rasps and heaves until I spit out a clump of blood and mucus onto my lap. "Was...seizing. Baby...drowned. Tried...to wake. Didn't...work. Called...Healers. Then...here."

"Don't lie to me. What did you do to your wife?"

"I..don't..." The next cough racks me so hard that my head flares with pain and I black out for a couple seconds.

Something slams into the side of my head. "Hey! Answer the question."

"Nothing...didn't..."

"Did you abuse your wife?"

"No!" I manage to say that with a bit more volume than my other answers. "Never..."

"What did you do to her to cause distress to the fetus?"

"Didn't...can't..."

"Can't what?"

"Breathe..." I gasp and then my chest feels so tight and pained that I double over, nearly passing out as I try to take in my next breath. "Please..."

"Have you had any times of cognitive absence during her pregnancy?" Not knowing what she means, I just slump in my chair, my skull hitting the back. "Sorry, I forget that you creatures tend to stay uneducated. Have you had any lycanthropy-induced blackouts?"

"No..." I croak. "Please..." My every breath can be heard throughout the room; it's so much of a struggle to just take in a little oxygen...

"I don't want to hear your whining," she snaps, and then, as always: "Stupefy."

"Reenervate."

I can't move. I can barely breathe; blood drips from the corner of my mouth from the last time I coughed. The magical effects of the repeated, constant use of the Stunning Spell and its countercurse have now taken its toll. When the Healer asks me a question, I can barely hear it. When I don't respond, she hits me. The pain of a strike across my cheek is actually a relief, for it distracts from the pain in my throat, chest, and head. "Are you ready to behave?" she asks me.

"My...daughter..." I groan, and I don't even know where I found the ability to speak. "My...son. Show...me..."

And then I can't breathe anymore, and my eyes go wide.

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 **A/N: Stay tuned for the next chapter! Please follow, favorite, and review!**


	2. Bad Blood

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's still reading!**

 **Favorite House Boot Camp - #4 (grotesque), Gryffindor**

 **If You Dare Challenge - #507 (Blood)**

 **Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #446 (Bad Blood)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Praise Queen Rowling.**

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My mouth tastes like salt and my chest doesn't hurt so much anymore. My throat still burns and my lungs still seem only able to take in half as much air, but everything does feel a bit...easier. I sit up with a gasp that makes my head spin with pain. "My..." I choke out before keeling over the edge of the bed and hacking, spitting blood onto the white tile.

"Don't bleed on my floor," says someone in the doorway as I slump back into the bed. He wears lime-green Healer robes and quickly says, "Scourgify," wiping the blood away with an easy swish of his wand. "And don't talk, either." He comes closer. He's young; older than the Healer who Stunned me, but still far younger than me. His hair is thick, kinky, and pulled back into a loose ponytail that seems to barely contain it. "That girl really went nuts on you, didn't she?"

I open my mouth, about to respond, but I remember his order. I nod, and even that aches.

"How many times did she Stun and Revive you?"

I shrug, holding up seven fingers. I'm not sure, but that feels right.

He clicks his tongue, scribbling something down.

"Want..." I croak, and I immediately regret trying to speak as I start to cough again.

The Healer jumps back, hands up, as another spout of crimson splatters against his floor. He glares at me. "What did I say?" He cleans it up again, having managed to avoid all dots of blood on his uniform. "Whatever it is you want to say, write it down." He summons small, handheld whiteboard and a black dry erase marker, both of which land in my lap.

I immediately wrap my fingers around the marker and grasp the whiteboard, my stomach churning with anticipation and hope. My family, I write, and the Healer smiles.

"Your wife's doing well," he tells me, and I wait impatiently for his next sentence. "Your daughter's still bouncing back from a bit of brain damage, but it looks like she'll make a full recovery. We're still trying to get your son breathing on his own, but as soon as he does that and puts on a bit more weight, he should be fine."

I slump, my veins buzzing with happiness. They're fine. They're going to be fine. My other daughter? Where is she?

He frowns, and my stomach drops. But then his face lights up, and he says, "Ah! The oldest, yeah? You're lucky you've got such a big family. They've been taking care of her since you got here."

My body now completely relaxes. They're all okay. Victoire, Dominique, Fleur, and even Louis... Thank you.

"Just doing my job, sir," he says. "You want to see them, yeah?" I nod as fast as I can without sending bullets of pain ricocheting inside my skull. "Well, I didn't bring this wheelchair all the way out here for nothing. Get in." Although it seems like a command directed at me, it's actually him who levitates me to the chair. He pushes me down multiple hallways and into one elevator before we reach a room covered in balloons and get well soon cards. Inside is a large white bed and a pale, small woman, lying flat on her back. Beside the bed is a red-haired man with one ear, slumped in a hard visitor's chair with a book cracked open. It takes him a moment to realize that there is someone else in the room, but when he does, his mouth widens into an earsplitting grin. "Bill!"

George rushes forward and embraces me; when he does, I nearly cough up blood all over his back. My Healer pushes my brother away from me as I try to recover. "Sorry, Mr. Weasley," he says, his hands on the handles of the wheelchair. "Your brother's still recovering from—"

"Bill, I swear to Merlin, they wouldn't tell us anything about you! We kept asking about where you were and that bloody Healer kept telling us you were being kept separated, separated, but they never told us where..." He frowned. "I thought Fleur and Dom were the only ones..." George had always been the impatient one. "What happened to you?" He turns the Healer, his face an expression of confusion. "What happened to him?"

I reach for the whiteboard. Long story.

At first, George doesn't even realize that this is the way I am communicating. "Oh," he says once he finally realizes what I am doing. "What the bloody hell is that, Bill?" He spun on the Healer again. "What the bloody hell is this? Why isn't he talking? What did you people do to him?"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down," my Healer responds swiftly, and I flinch at the familiar tone. "There was a...a new Healer at the hospital—er, she... She—"

"Mistake," I cut him off, but spit up scarlet, as expected, all over my lap.

My Healer sighs. "Two rules. That's all I ask." He Scourgifies the blood, but a bit still remains.

George looks at me, and I write it down for him. Mistake healing. That's it.

The Healer nearly contradicts me, but then stops. George frowns but lets it go. "Fleur's doing just fine, you know," he tells me. He rolls me forward so that I am beside her. She's sleeping now; her eyes are closed, and her face is a chalky white. "The Healers said that she had a seizure in the bath with Dom, yeah?" I nod. "And they had to take the Louis out early because then he would've died otherwise. They used loads of Healing magic on him, Bill. The seizure caused the umbilical cord to tighten around him and made him bump around a lot. It nearly killed him. He's just down the hall; Hermione and Ron are watching him, and Angelina and Charlie are watching Dom. Percy and Audrey are still at home, sleeping, because they took the night shift, and Harry's down on the first floor buying some sweets for Fleur when she wakes up. She likes fudge, yeah?" I smile at the loyalty and kindness of my family. This is how the Weasley family is: we do everything together. "Gin's supposed to be on shift with me, see, but she went down to the cafeteria." He rolls his eyes. "Stupid sister and her stupid stomach. Mum and Dad are usually here, but they went to go interrogate the Healers a bit more about you. I swear Dad nearly blew up two of 'em because they kept avoiding the questions."

I laugh, but soon realize that that causes my chest contracts with the effort, and then I'm wheezing and choking and pressing my hand against the center of my chest until my curly-haired Healer points his wand at my chest, causing it to expand again. When I finally look back to my younger brother, his face has turned into a concerned glare. "What happened to you, Bill?"

I shake my head. Nothing. I'm fine. How long has it been?

"Two weeks," he says, and my stomach plummets. "Bill, I'm not kidding. If you don't tell me, then Mum'll probably smack it out of you. Come on."

Doesn't matter. Can I see Dom?

"Well, yeah, but Bill—" He stops. He's staring at my face. "Did someone—" he begins. "Did someone hit you?"

With my Healer's last Scourgify, he had washed away not only the blood on my hospital gown, but also the blood on my face as well. It had been covering up a rather large bruise on my face. I wheel myself over to the mirror in the bathroom. When I reach it, I stand up, even as exhaustion wrecks my body and my muscles (and my Healer) scream in protest. I raise a shaky hand to the dark purple bruise on the right side of my face... It's loosely divided into the shapes of three smaller bruises, each around the shape of a woman's hand. I press it gingerly. "Bill?" George repeats. "What happened?"

I gulp. "I..." I start to wheeze again, but at least this time no blood comes from between my lips. I keel over, clutching the edge of the sink. "I..." My lungs squeeze all of the air out of them and try to suck in more. "I..."

"Bill?"

"Out of the way, out of the way," says my Healer, and then he is there, pushing my wheelchair aside so that he can reach me and so that it is behind me. "Mr. Weasley, can you just sit down, please? It'll be easier to breathe this way, I promise." I collapse into the wheelchair, my body heaving with the grotesque effort of trying to breathe.

"Bill! What's going on?"

"Please sit down, sir. I'm trying to help him, that's all. Give me a moment."

My head is spinning, and I lean forward, trying to force oxygen into my weak lungs, but nothing is working... He grabs my arms and shoves them away from my chest and onto my knees so that I'm braced forward. He pushes my head down farther and tells me, "Breathe. Just breathe. Slow down. Nothing's here to hurt you. You're not going to die. You are fine. Just breathe."

Breathe, breathe, breathe, you stupid man, breathe... His wand is on my back, poking and prodding at my various points until oxygen finally floods back into me. When I've finally gotten myself sitting up and breathing (mostly), I write a thank you to my Healer and he nods. "Just doing my job," he says.

George is slumped in one of the visitor's chairs, his head in his hands. He looks up as my Healer wheels me back inside and sets me up so that I am next to Fleur's bed. "Bill," he says, and my Healer cuts him off.

"Are you familiar with the Stunning Spell?" I know where he is going with this. I wish I could just not be here at all for this conversation. I find Fleur's frail hand and interlace my fingers with his, pressing my lips to each one and then to the back of her hand. I wish...

He nods. "Yes."

"And the Reviving Spell?"

"Yes."

"Overuse of both spells can lead to tightness in the chest and shortness of breath. Extreme overuse, well..." He gestures to me. "Your brother is a prime example."

I focus on my pants, trying in vain to rub a spot of blood from it. "But..." George began. "But what...Bill, who did this?"

"A new Healer here," he explains, as I stare at my hands. "Kept him in a old meeting room in the basement until about a week ago and interrogated him about what happened."

"Bill?"

I jerk my chin up to acknowledge that I've heard him.

"Is this true?" George looks to me, bewildered.

I can't face him. I take a shaky breath and kiss my wife's hand again. I don't respond to his question.

"She's been arrested," my Healer explains, trying to calm my brother before he explodes on someone. "We're expecting the trial in about a month or so."

George isn't even listening to him anymore. His eyes focus on the bruise on my face and on the blood, and then settle onto my eyes. "Bill?" I don't want to answer him. "Bill, look at me. Is that true? That's where you've been all this time?"

After a few moments of no response, I nod, my eyes trained on the fact that Fleur is still breathing.

"Bloody..." he begins, but he doesn't finish. "Bill, tell me what happened in there," he says, and I write it down for him.

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Please follow, favorite, and review! Let me know what you think!**


	3. Crazy In Love

**A/N: Next chapter!**

 **Your Favorite House Boot Camp - #5 (fool), Gryffindor**

 **Character Trait Boot Camp - #37 (reckless), Bill Weasley**

 **Board Game Challenge - #94 (Write about the pieces falling into place.)**

 **Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #451 (Crazy in Love)**

 **If You Dare Challenge - #611 (Hospital)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

I don't know why I'm so scared. I stumble through the halls of the hospital, falling on the wall for support. I can barely stand on my own, but I have to get to her. I have to see my wife. My mouth is wet, and when I touch a finger to my lips and draw it back in front of me, I realize that my lips are smeared with blood.

I ignore the increasing pain in my chest and keep going. I must see her. I must see her. _I must_ — My stomach spears with pain, but I ignore it. I hurt all over but that doesn't even compare to not being able to see her. I left in the middle of the night to go from my cosy hospital bed to hers, because no one was watching me then. Mum hadn't figured out the shifts just yet, so it was the only time I was left truly alone.

"Mr. Weasley?" It's my Healer. He's been looking for me; he knows where I'm trying to go. "Mr. Weasley, this really isn't healthy. I must insist that you go back to your room."

I stop moving and slump into the wall, hiding myself behind a cart of medical supplies. I'm not going anywhere. Maybe if I stay absolutely still and quiet, then he will leave. But unfortunately, my breathing is so raspy and obvious that he can follow its obnoxious sound. My chest is heaving for each breath by the time he reaches me, and he shines an incredibly bright wand in my face. I raise an arm to block my eyes from the piercing glow. "Mr. Weasley?"

I try to stand but find that I am too weak to do so. My teal hospital gown clings to my chest, sticky with sweat. My head hurts so terribly that I have to grind the heel of my palm into the side of my skull in order to dull it. "Mr. Weasley, what—"

"Want...to...see..." I gasp, and then vomit all over his shoes. As I fall forward, lightheaded and aching, I realize that the enormous amount of body fluids that I heaved up was not vomit after all, but blood.

"Oh, Merlin," my Healer says, and then he kneels besides me, shooting a spell into the air and shouting down the corridor for assistance. He smoothly undoes the back of my gown and pulls it off of me; for what reason, I do not know. He pushes me back against the wall, moving my arms away from my stomach so that he can get a view. "Merlin's balls," is his reaction as a herd of Healers clatters down the hallway. "Look what you've done." Dazed and nauseous, my head drops to my chest, and I can see exactly what he means. My stomach is strangely sunken in and a dark reddish purple color is slowly spreading across it. I attempt to climb to my feet once more, but only end up collapsing into the arms of my Healer. I grip his forearms, meet his eyes, and then cough blood into his face.

* * *

"You're an idiot," says Charlie. He and Harry are doing a shift together watching me. They're supposed to go until midnight, when they'll switch with Hermione and Mum. Ron, Ginny, and Gabrielle are watching Fleur, Audrey and Angelina are keeping watch over Dominique, and Percy and Dad are taking care of Louis. George and Fleur's parents are at home, babysitting Victoire. Fleur's family had just arrived this morning, when Angelina and George had just shown up for a shift to realize that I had tried to walk all the way to Fleur's room and was then in the care of five Healers who were trying to wake me up and keep me from bleeding out. "What were you doing out in the middle of the bloody night, roaming the hallways like a fool?"

 _Fleur_ , I write, because it's very simple.

Charlie rolls his eyes and doesn't even bother to look at the whiteboard; he knows the answer to his question. "I know that you went for Fleur, stupid. But what were you thinking? You could've asked for someone to take you, or anything."

"He's right," Harry agrees. He adjusts his glasses. "Someone could've gotten a wheelchair for you. We'd have had no problem with that."

"But nearly killing yourself trying to get to her? That's plain stupid, Bill. You started bleeding internally as soon as we found you. If the Healer hadn't gotten there in time..." Charlie's rubbing his forehead, like he always does when gets nervous. "Merlin, Bill, what were you thinking?"

I start writing, but Charlie tears it from my hands.

"Stop writing! Just listen to me for one second!"

Harry moves towards my brother as if about to get up and comfort him, but then sits back down again as Charlie paces before my bed. "Look, Bill, I don't know what's gotten into you, but it still doesn't mean that you can go and scare everyone like that! You weren't back into your bed and Mum was nearly going mad with worry when they got her up in the middle of the bloody night—" My head sweeps me with a wave of pain that takes my breath away. I cringe, hunching over as Harry and Charlie's words become unintelligible to me...Bill...Bill... _Bill_... "Bill!"

Charlie's face looms before mine, frowning. "Bill? You there?"

I don't know why the pain isn't going away. It's usually gone by now.

"Something wrong?" My Healer is standing in the doorway, arms folded, clearly displeased. "Bill?"

I have to see her. I have to see my wife. I sit up (even though it hurts) and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I stand.

"Whoa, hey!" He stops me, pressing his hand against my chest and forcing me to sit back down. "Bill, can you hear me?"

I have to see her. I have to see Fleur. I have to see Dom. I have to— I write it down for him... _I have to see her_.

"What is this?"

"What did he write?"

My Healer snatches the whiteboard from my brother-in-law and reads it. "Merlin's beard," he says, just as Charlie asks, "What?"

The whiteboard gets passed around, and I want it back. I grab for it, but I'm going in the wrong direction; I fall to the side, my head dizzy and nausea rising in my throat. "Bill? Can you hear me?"

"He didn't write any intelligible words on here," says Harry, who now has the whiteboard in his hands. He touches my Healer's shoulder. "He wrote nonsense words up here. He wrote—"

"Don't you think I know that?" he snaps. He turns back to me, checking every inch of me. He spots the unnaturally pale color of my skin, the redness of my blue eyes, the way I sway as even as I sit, the sheen of sweat over me. "Mr. Weasley, when was the last time Bill went to the toilet?"

"What—sir, I—"

"I'm asking you a bloody question! When was the last time your brother took a piss?"

"Er, he hasn't, not yet, but—"

The Healer swears and picks up my hand from the bed. "Blue..." he whispers, and all the pieces seem to fall into place. Then his hands are on my face, on my chin and my scars and then near my forehead near my bed-hair, his fingers prying my eyelids open to fully see my left eye. He examines that one and swears again under his breath. "His left pupil's blown," he growls, and he kicks something under the bed that allows it to roll. He shoots a familiar spell from his wand and shoves my bed to the door, widening the doorway with a nonverbal charm.

I collapse back onto the bed, the pain in my head so intense that I can't even bear to open my eyes.

"Out of the way! Healer Azikiwe, tell Liu we need a Healing Room right now!"

"All the HRs are full. We don't—"

"My patient's about to go into hypovolemic shock in the next twenty seconds! If you don't open up an HR for me in that time then I swear to Merlin I'll cut him open right here in the corridor!"

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 **A/N: It'll take me a while to post the next chapter, but stick with me! Please follow, favorite, and review!**


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